Matters have now become entirely different.  The workman, no matter what his trade, is comparatively free.  The only slavery from which he suffers, is his passion for drink.  In this respect he still resembles the Esquimaux and the North American Indians.  Would he be really free?  Then he must exercise the powers of a free, responsible man.  He must exercise self-control and self-constraint,—­and sacrifice present personal gratifications for prospective enjoyments of a much higher kind.  It is only by self-respect and self-control that the position of the workman can be really elevated.

The working man is now more of a citizen than he ever was before.  He is a recognized power, and has been admitted within the pale of the constitution.  For him mechanics’ institutes, newspapers, benefit societies, and all the modern agencies of civilization, exist in abundance.  He is admitted to the domain of intellect; and, from time to time, great thinkers, artists, engineers, philosophers, and poets, rise up from his order, to proclaim that intellect is of no rank, and nobility of no exclusive order.  The influences of civilization are rousing society to its depths; and daily evidences are furnished of the rise of the industrious classes to a position of social power.  Discontent may, and does, exhibit itself; but discontent is only the necessary condition of improvement; for a man will not be stimulated to rise up into a higher condition unless he be first made dissatisfied with the lower condition out of which he has to rise.  To be satisfied is to repose; while, to be rationally dissatisfied, is to contrive, to work, and to act, with an eye to future advancement.

The working classes very much under-estimate themselves.  Though they receive salaries or wages beyond the average earnings of professional men, yet many of them have no other thought than that of living in mean houses, and spending their surplus time and money in drink.  They seem wanting in respect for themselves as well as for their class.  They encourage the notion that there is something degrading in labour,—­than which nothing can be more false.  Labour of all kinds is dignifying and honourable; it is the idler, above all others, who is undignified and dishonourable.

“Let the working man,” says Mr. Sterling, “try to connect his daily task, however mean, with the highest thoughts he can apprehend, and he thereby secures the rightfulness of his lot, and is raising his existence to his utmost good.  It is because the working man has failed to do this, and because others have failed to help him as they ought, that the lot of labour has hitherto been associated with what is mean and degrading.”